This morning at 10 a.m. I went to traffic school where a mountain of a cop bellowed out in precise "Police-ese" where we violators could stick it. Tomorrow I go to a job interview also at 10 a.m. at Krispy Kreme doughnuts... anyone see the cosmic tapestry unraveling? (Cue Twilight Zone track here)...
10 a.m. traffic school by 11 turned into a tournament of tirades. One woman in the back was prepared to keep some fifty people or thereabouts holed up in the city council chamber while she contested an apparently personal grievance with a traffic citation. "What if it's your word against the cop's?" Another woman previous to her felt that being ticketed for going 15 miles an hour over the posted speed limit was unthinkable because she was traveling downhill. Someone pleaded that there be better lighting on 800 or 700 North because they couldn't see the pedestrians well enough to avoid them.
I remained quiet. I routinely contemplated my legal pad already awash with notes from months ago. (It has become a pastiche of assorted miscellaneous doodles, poems or random lecture highlights of recent history---a personal cave of Lascaux. I was fascinated by how the disorder became a unique yellow cosmos as a botched love sonnet, a quick haiku, a smiley face and notes from a stake meeting collided and caroused lazily before me.) There was no such justification for me (as is often the case). I remember racing in wanton disregard toward the Provo Town Center to see a movie one Friday or Saturday morning, and once I'd breezily cleared a round-about the police officer cordially noted that I was going 17 miles an hour over the speed limit, but graciously knocked it down to 9. (The upside to wearing one's emotions on one's sleeve is being able to LOOK aghast when one feels that way---undoubtedly the officer recognized I was on the verge of sweating to death.)
That being said, I may have an additional arsenal if I'm driving around doughnuts: before a patrolman can issue a ticket, I'll reach into the back and pull out a New York Cheesecake or a Chocolate Iced Glazed Cruller... Eat that, pig! No... really. Eat it.
P.S. I was trying to find another word form for galaxy... like galaxial (which I don't think exists) and Dictionary.com referred me to this acronym. Go figure... :)
P.P.S. I realize "galactic" might be what I was looking for... but I like galaxial better. :)